


That Wicked Look

by OriginalCeenote



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Smut, Pining, Rachel has Abandonment Issues, Scott Summers is a Horrible Dad, So Does Kurt, The Pairing that Marvel Let Get Away, Uncanny X-Men Claremont Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unexpected kiss in the Danger Room has Rachel and Kurt trying to put it back on the shelf. Albeit with little success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Wicked Look

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old story from the Superstories archive. I would call this a "sophomore" effort, written when I had been scribbling fanfiction for a couple of years, but still pretty long ago. My style was still very rough and underdeveloped...
> 
> I wrote this for the simple reason that there is NO fic for this pairing. That is an injustice.

"Red?"

Dog-eared paperbacks floated errantly in the air as Rachel attended to her spring cleaning.

"Yo, Red? Earth to Rachel?"

Silence followed, occasionally broken by a faint rendition of a Vanessa Carlton tune humming through Rachel's lips.

"RAY!"

"OH!" Books flew about as Rachel's concentration was broken. Kitty phased as a hardcover edition of "Bridget Jones Diary" nearly took her head off.

"What is WITH you today? It's like talking to the walls," Kitty complained as she began retrieving the books and loading them into the Rubbermaid storage containers in the middle of the floor. Rachel sighed as she rubbed her eyes and leaned back amidst the clutter. "I came back for break to spend time with you, but it's like you're a million miles away."

"Sorry, Pryde," Rachel muttered. "Lot on my mind, I guess."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Wait'll they go on clearance." Kitty chuckled.

"Seriously, what's going on? What's got you in such a funk?"

"Nothing. Well, everything. I don't know, lately." Rachel reached into the neckline of her mint green, ribbed cotton tank top and pulled out her favorite pendant. The holempathic crystal spear caught the sunlight streaming in through Rachel's dorm room, throwing a full spectrum of prisms against the walls. "I miss Mom."

"I know. I do, too. Couldn't have been easy, what happened here back when..."

"It wasn't," Rachel cut her off. "It was horrible." Rachel swallowed the lump that lodged itself in her throat. "I let myself hope, even if just for a moment, that she'd come back again. Maybe for good this time. It was too good to be true, just like it is every time..."

"Nothing wrong with hoping, Ray. It's what keeps the world turning, especially our world," Kitty emphasized, throwing her arms wide. "I called myself going off to college, to make a new life for myself that involves business suits instead of spandex and boots. Yet somehow, I keep getting pulled back in. Kinda like those old 'Gilligan's Island' reunion movies where they finally get off the island, only to take another cruise and get washed ashore all over again..."

"It's not THAT bad," Rachel cajoled, grinning.

"I wanna be loved by you, by you, and nobody else but youuuu..." Kitty sang.

"Okay, maybe it is that bad, if you're channeling Tina Louise."

"Dawn Wells, when Mary Ann's got amnesia and thinks she's Ginger. I'm TOTALLY Mary Anne. You're more of a Ginger. Everybody falls for the hot redhead."

"I wish!"

"It's true," Kitty argued, silently enjoying the play of sunlight on Rachel's coppery shoulder-length waves. "Sure was true when we lived in Brian's lighthouse. I swear to God, Ray, I always felt like your purse jockey whenever we went anywhere together."

"Purse jockey?" Rachel quirked an eyebrow.

"You know what I'm talking about. Whenever a pretty girl walks into a bar and someone asks her to dance, she always has to have a plainer girlfriend come along to hold her purse, or to wear jeans with big pockets to hold her keys."

"Pryyyde," Rachel grimaced. "What're you talking about? You're totally hot." Rachel had another thought as she continued to stack books in the tubs. "Kitty...did I ever act like a jerk to you back then? Did you think I was a show-off?"

"Nope. You were just you. And it just got my knickers in a twist when Alistair used to drool over you. Which was constantly, hello!"

"He didn't know what he was missing. Look at you now." Rachel shook her head, taking in Kitty's body-hugging black leather pants, calf-length boots with three-inch heels, and off-the-shoulder white bodysuit. "Campus life agrees with you, girlfriend. Speaking of which, how long're you gonna be home?"

"'Bout a week. I'm on call to back up Dylan at 'Belle's when I get back, so I might head out a little sooner. It all depends."

"Depends on what?"

"I wanted to help out Scott with a couple of his classes while I'm here, namely updating the curriculum and schedules for this semester. He also wanted me to program a few new Danger Room scenarios for the seniors." Kitty edged over to the mirror over the vanity, running a hand through her glossy brown ponytail. "I also kinda wanted to spend some time with Peter while I'm here. He hasn't been his old social self lately."

"Can you blame him?"

"Of course not. Problem is, he won't let me in, either. Sometimes I get my foot in the door and get him to talk to me, but my foot's starting to hurt."

"Sounds like Peter's the one who has your knickers in a twist, then."

"RAY!"

"C'mon, Pryde. Admit it. You're still carrying a torch for him."

"We were just friends before, that's where we left off..."

"You went all the way to Russia to scatter his ashes. And your eyes follow him out of the room every time he leaves," Rachel reminded her.

"They do not," Kitty huffed indignantly.

"Do too. And there's nothing wrong with it. On some level, you're afraid he's going to leave you again." Rachel came up behind Kitty and tugged on a lock of Kitty's hair.

"He's already left me a handful times that come to mind, Ray. Every time I let him in...he lets himself back out. I don't want to smother him." Rachel's hand felt warm and soft on Kitty's shoulder. She gave it a familiar squeeze.

"You're not. You'd be surprised."

"Ray...please don't tell me you –"

"I didn't. I don't snoop where I'm not wanted, don't worry. However, I DID happen to run across his sketchbook when he left it outside on the patio last night. Apparently he ran across you when you were meditating and doing your katas." Rachel projected a holographic image, depicting her memories of Peter's pencil and charcoal sketches, all impeccably rendered. All of Kitty in various states of repose. A low gasp escaped Kitty.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. Good, aren't they?"

"Wow. Oh, wow." Kitty's hand flew up to her chest reflexively, fingering her silver Star of David charm. A rush of pink bloomed in her cheeks.

"You already said that, Pryde. You can close your mouth now."

"Okay," she agreed numbly. Rachel giggled. She turned back to the Rubbermaid tubs and snapped on the lids with a loud click. "There!"

"Almost finished?"

"Yup. Feels good to free up some space."

"We're not even roomies anymore, you should be allowed to spread out."

"Nah. I wanna leave some space open in case Laura wants to bunk in here again. The kids are still acting spooked by her."

"Can't say I wouldn't have when I was her age, either. Wolvie used to scare the bejeezus outta me when I was still new. Kurt, too, now that I think of it."

"You thought Kurt was scary? He's just such a huggy bear," Rachel chastised.

"Huggy bear???" Kitty eyed Rachel, her brows arching as though her former roommate had sprouted wings. "Are you kidding?"

"What?"

"Huggy bear," Kitty repeated, incredulous.

"Sure. Why not?" Rachel shrank beneath Kitty's gaze as she ducked her face into her CD pile, starting to alphabetize them.

"RAY...you LIKE Kurt. Oh, my God!"

"Hush up, shut up, SHUT UP. Don't you start, don't you look at me like that, Kitty, I mean it! Don't make me toss you off the balcony," she warned.

"Go ahead. Wouldn't phase me if you did. Especially since I can phase me. And cats land on their feet."

"Brat! You can't say anything to anyone about this. It's bad enough that Ororo knows, and that was an accident."

"What's 'Ro gotta do with it?"

"She and Logan walked in on us in the Danger Room."

"So? It's not off-limits to folks that wanna watch."

"It is if you happen to have a kiss on the spur of the moment with your sparring partner."

"Wait...a kiss? You mean a full-on, on-the-mouth, take-your-breath-away smooch? THAT kind of kiss."

"The best kind," Rachel breathed, staring off into space for a second. "Mmmmmmmmm..." Kitty shook her head at the dopey grin on her face. "It was incredible."

"So what's the big deal if Ororo saw you two?"

"It wouldn't be a big deal if Kurt didn't like Ororo."

"If Kurt...wait. What? Kurt likes Ororo? LIKES her likes her?"

"Yup. At least that was the impression I gathered a few weeks back."

"When?"

"When Kurt was showing Ororo how to dance." And it hadn't been that big of a deal at the time. Rachel spied them out the window from her room while she was admiring the stars. It wasn't all that unusual a sight, she considered. Ororo, as always, looked beautiful enough to stop traffic in a slinky red gown. What caught her eye, though, was Kurt. As the winds carried them aloft, stirring Ororo's upswept hair and fluttering through Kurt's indigo curls, Rachel caught the rapt expression on his face. His grip around Ororo's waist was sure and confident. His wiry frame was graceful and lithe in the moonlight, clad in a tux with tails that he was made to wear.

His expression, though...wow. His smile was devilish and cocky as usual, but it was also filled with something like longing. And joy, both precious and long overdue. Rachel felt a pang of envy as the scene unfolded before her. 

Replaced by terror and confusion, of course, once the Fury came blazing through the complex, but still...it was a glorious, transcendent moment that made Rachel want to weep. Or to simply kick something. Or to simply shake her fist at the sky and beg the powers that be why she was on the outside looking in. Again.

_Why do I always end up alone?_

"So maybe he was just showing her how to dance, what's so bad about that? They've been friends for a while. Near as I can tell, 'Ro's been spending most of her down time with Logan these days."

"Hunh. I guess. Still...I get the feeling Kurt wishes it was him instead. Once those two interrupted us, Kurt backed away from me like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I haven't had a minute to talk to him since. He's been avoiding me."

"Liking someone is a two-way street, Ray. If Ororo hasn't been reciprocating, I don't see Kurt as the kind of guy to waste his time barking up the wrong tree."

"Yeah, but the question is," Ray groused, "once he gets Ororo out of his system, where does that leave me? I've been alone for so much of my life, Pryde. Call me picky...but I don't want to be the woman he just sorta 'settles' for."

"You couldn't. Ray, you're the kind of woman that a man could die for."

 

**Danger Room:**

 

"Avast, ye scurvy dogs! Have at thee!" Kurt unsheathed his dirk from its scabbard and clenched it neatly between his teeth as he swung down in a broad arc from the crow's nest. Combat-equipped drones brandished swords and weapons of various calibers below him as he launched himself into the fray.

Kurt's grin shone out from his indigo visage as cannon fire resounded off the Danger Room walls, thundering in his pointed ears. "Ah, the smell of gunpowder in the morning!" he quipped as the suite simulated exactly that, to enhance the module and make it more real. Bless Kitty's little heart, Kurt thought. It was the little things that meant such a difference.

Metal clanged off of metal. Kurt made short work of the 'bots, sending bandanna-clad aluminum heads rolling across the deck as he made his way to the bow of the "ship." Dimly he could hear a scream above the clamor. A flash of panicked yellow eyes and gleaming blue skin appeared as he noted a struggling on the steps leading to the galley. 

"Fear not, milady, these foulest of brigands! Thy salvation is imminent, fairest one!"

Kurt fought his way through the thicket of 'bots blocking his way to the galley, picking them off one by one. Kymri fought her own valiant struggle, ignoring the bonds of hemp rope around her wrists as she agilely kicked one of her captors in the sternum. Kurt hummed a sailor's shanty to himself as he backhanded a scoundrel who sought to get the drop on him, leaping from the railing. His attacker sailed back over it from whence he came, creating a glorious splash. Kurt smiled as Kymri head-butted yet another of their number, making Kurt question to himself whether his assistance was needed. His tail flicked about, wielding yet a third sword as he protected his rear flank.

Kurt channeled Errol Flynn as he practically danced along the rails, swords flashing. Robotic limbs and heads continued to fly.

"This," he sighed, "is the life." He blew the hologram of Kymri a kiss. With a wicked smile, she returned it. Kurt nearly escaped a "cannonball" launched from the other "ship."

"Missed me, missed me, now ya gotta kiss meeeee..." he sang out.

Sometimes, it just felt so blessed good to break something. Anything to distract himself from...darn it. Not again.

Blue eyes swam in his vision, staring hypnotically at him from a heart-shaped, mocha-brown face framed by clouds of silvery white hair. The Danger Room simulated more waves crashing against the hull, and Kurt's mind wandered back to that night. Back to the tinge of moisture in the air, blown along by a cool breeze. So many stars. So many possibilities in that one spectacular moment.

 

Then, of course, it was all blown to hell. Never failed.

"And to think...the last time I asked Ororo to dance, Black Tom and Juggernaut came crashing through the walls."

"VICTORYYYYY!" The cries of the remaining crew went up, startling Kurt from his reverie, as the other ship raised the white flag. "Kymri" rushed over to him, flinging herself into his outstretched arms. For the briefest of moments, Kurt tightened his arms around her, wishing...

"End program," he muttered."

"Simulation ended. Exercise complete," a monotone, female voice thrummed at him from the speakers. Kurt stepped back from Kymri, releasing her, reaching out one thick finger to light brush her cheek as she de-materialized in a buzz of static.

"So even when you save the day, you don't get the girl?" Kurt whirled at the rasping growl at the doorway. "Take a breather, 'Elf. Have a brew." Logan deftly tossed him a can that he freed from the six-pack dangling in his grip. Kurt's tail whipped out and caught it as he reached for his discarded towel.

"I've never been in it to get the girl."

"Maybe not, but ya gotta admit, it's a perk. Chicks dig the suit," Logan nodded to Kurt's indigo and red combat leathers.

"Even when you top it off with a mask?"

"Adds a little mystery."

"It also scares the daylights out of people who don't know you all that well. I should know, I'm an expert on scaring people."

"Appearances don't matter worth shit, boy, when ya've got yer charm."

"Could've fooled me, mein freund," Kurt scoffed, popping open his beer and taking a hearty swallow. 

Logan gave him an odd look. "Ororo still on yer mind?"

"Ja."

"A lot?"

"Enough," Kurt shrugged, contemplating his beer as though it could whisper the answers in his ear.

"Anything happened between you two since takin' yer little spin in the sky?"

"Nein. Nope. Zip." Logan grunted as he nodded in understanding.

"Fine by me, 'Elf. Just askin,' no biggie." Logan downed half of his own drink, briskly wiping his mouth with the back of his fist. "UUUUuurrrrp!" Kurt grinned, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Nice one. And people complain when I bamf in the house."

"It's an art."

The two enjoyed their beer and the relative silence of the empty workout suite. "So, 'Elf," Logan muttered.

"Ja?"

"Ya don't mind it, do ya, if I take 'Ro out? Since she hasn't made a move an' all?"

Kurt choked on his gulp of beer. Logan whacked him soundly on the back. "Easy, 'Elf!"

Kurt collected himself. "No. I don't mind. Well...I take that back. I shouldn't mind, to be perfectly honest."

"Ya used ta be a priest, for all intents and purposes. Make with the honesty, Fuzzy."

"I like Ororo. It was always pretty brotherly. It goes without saying that she's attractive, and sweet, and that she's always made me feel...better than I am."

"Yup." This time Logan stared into his beer. "Me, too. Good way of summin' it up." Logan thought of her startling smile and musical laugh for a moment, remembering how much fun it had been to take her out on the town.

"Things have been different lately. So much has happened. It's just so...easy to get caught up in the moment under such difficult circumstances. To always feel like the time you spend with those you care about could come to a crashing halt any second."

"It's called life. You know how that is better'n anybody."

"I'm honored to be on Storm's team," Kurt sighed. "I'm glad she has the confidence in me to tag me for it. But these past few weeks..." Kurt's voice trailed off.

"Still beatin' yerself up about that kid at the school?"

"Ja," he replied. Logan winced at the misery in his voice. It mirrored his own. "They should have listened. We were the police, with all of the proper credentials, and they treated us like we were the ones terrorizing those innocent children. We were there to save them! What bloody good did we do?"

"Ask that t'the other thirty or so kids that we did save," Logan reminded him, clapping his shoulder soundly.

"I know. But I should have listened to you when you wanted us to sneak our way in. I could have 'ported..."

"That was our old M.O," Logan growled. "Yeah, I thought we should sneak in, at the time. But look where that gets us. News would have painted us as burglars in all the fancy headlines instead of freaks. SWAT teams still would have busted in, regardless. Chances are, that building still woulda come down. Sometimes it takes me a few beers...scratch that, a LOT of beers, before I can look back on a day like that one and tell myself I did the best that I could." SNIKT. Logan extended his claws, watching the glint of the overhead lights shining on the blades. Kurt frowned slightly in sympathy, remembering how crushed Logan was as he knelt over the broken, mutilated body of the boy whose powers had flared out of his control. 

Logan seldom cried. Mister Stoneface. For that reason, and perhaps a handful of others, Kurt truly pitied his best friend.

"Kurt?"

"Ja?"

"It's good that ya don't mind too much 'bout me takin' 'Ro out. If ya said 'Yeah, I do mind,' I mighta had ta rip yer tail off an' use the point as a toothpick."

"Okay, then. We're good." The men clinked their beer cans together in a salute.

 

**Upstairs, Headmasters' Office:**

 

"You promised, Scott."

"I can't, Emma."

"Yes you can. You really mean you won't."

"You know I would. I want to." Scott tapped his fingers on the heavy, brightly polished mahogany desk as he gazed at his lover while she sulkily paced toward the French windows. The sunlight set her platinum blonde waves ablaze, illuminating her as she faced him, pouting.

_And people are afraid of what I can do when I look at them..._

"I heard that," Emma sniffed. "Someone's compromising their bedroom privileges..."

"Emma!"

"...and a certain stubborn, workaholic headmaster is seriously at risk of never seeing a certain favorite, white satin babydoll nightie on a certain gorgeous blonde telepath again?"

" _Emma._ " His jaw was tight, fighting back the vision that sprang to mind. His pants felt snug against his crotch. Uncomfortably snug. _Shit._

Emma sighed, allowing the merest vestige of a smile to lift the corner of her mouth. "Why can't you take me to dinner? I already set the reservations. We haven't left the school in weeks. I'm dying for a good bottle of sauvignon, Scott. You don't stand between a desperate woman and a good '62."

"I promised Hank I'd help him take a look at Cerebro and fix a bug in the Danger Room's routines."

"Hank's perfectly capable of doing that without your help." Her smooth tone allowed a hint of petulance to creep in.

"Emma...I have responsibilities. How'll it look if both headmasters of the school just take off for the hell of it to an overpriced dinner and dancing when there're upgrades and repairs to be made to facility and security?"

"It will look like two grown-ups are having a well-deserved night off. What's the point of being the headmaster if you can't make the rules?"

Scott sighed. Uneasy cold prickles raced up and down his nape. If only it were that easy...

Inexplicably, he heard himself saying "Fine. It can wait. I promised you dinner, Emma, and I'll make good on my word, like a good Boy Scout." Before he could ponder the wisdom of his words, or the logic behind them, Emma beamed a smile of pure devilry, light blue eyes twinkling as she leaned up and nibbled his chin. Scott made a ragged sound in his throat as her hot breath steamed his flesh, tightening places that hadn't quite settled back to normal since Emma had mentioned her babydoll nightie.

"Good." Emma's gloved fingers curled in his sandy brown hair, tugging on it, drawing his lips down to hers for a thorough plundering. Emma drank in his thoughts as she pressed closer, rubbing her bosom more deeply into his chest. She suppressed a chuckle.

_Strawberries. She tastes like strawberries..._

It was good to be the Queen.

"I think Rachel will be in tonight. What's the point of having senior students at your disposal if you can't make use of their talents?" Emma suggested into his mouth. Scott nodded his approval as his lips moved down to devour her neck.

 

**An hour later:**

 

"Bloody COW!" Kitty ducked as a stuffed bear went flying into the wall behind her.

"Problem?" Kitty peered out at Rachel from beneath her hand, waiting for the next onslaught of random objects to sail across the room.

"Problem? ME? No, I don't have a problem, except maybe for the husband-stealing, collagen-injected, microdermabrasioned, rhinoplastied, liposuctioned, conniving, evil, SILICON-stuffed witch that just dumped a pile of repairs and upgrades onto my plate tonight."

"You weren't gonna do anything else tonight," Kitty pointed out.

"Exactly," Rachel fumed. "I was going to veg out, as I so richly friggin' deserve." She flung her hand out toward the pile of DVD rentals on her desk. "This was the last day before the rental has to be returned, I haven't watched 'Episode III' or season seven of 'Buffy" yet!"

"Oooh. Tough break. I loved season seven," Kitty tsked. "James Marsters has his shirt off more than on in that season."

"No shit."

"So how'd you get stuck with the repairs?"

"Emma's dragging Scott out the door by the nose. He's so pussy-whipped," Rachel snorted, blowing out through her mouth to make her bangs fly up in the air. Kitty giggled.

"Nice. Very nice. Way to talk about your dad."

"Why even call him my dad? He's never wanted any part of me since I came here."

"That's not true. You're all he has left of your mother, Ray. No matter what happened before she died, she was always precious to him, and so are you. Even if he has a weird way of showing it."

"She said I never should have been born, Pryde, she said that right to his face, and he didn't even flinch." Rachel assessed the damage. Her nice orderly dorm was a pigsty again after her little rampage. Kitty sighed. "Kitty, what're you up to tonight, anyway?"

"Wish I could stick around to help you, girlfriend, but I'm actually going out. Peter and I are headed to the museum for a new contemporary painting exhibit. I've still gotta do my hair and put my face on."

"That explains the killer outfit," Rachel mused. "Shoulda known." She went to the vanity and reached for a curvy Lucite perfume bottle. "Humor me. Wear some of this. I think he'll like it."

"What is it?"

"Estee Lauder 'Pleasures.' It definitely makes you smell like a girl." Kitty leaned in and let Rachel spritz a tiny puff of the cologne along the side of her neck.

"Mmmmm. Nice. Good choice, thanks."

"Welcome. Knock his eyes out."

"Easier said than done. Last time I checked, he likes the showy girls." Kitty's expression faltered as she thought back to Callisto, back when she came aboveground from the Morlock tunnels with her face restored by Masque to its former beauty. And of Meggan, when Peter used to admire her when he thought no one was looking. Ororo also mentioned some lady named Nereel in the Savage Land. Let's not forget Zsaji, either, Pryde, she minded herself. He probably hasn't.

"Then he should like you just fine." Rachel nudged Kitty into a chair by the vanity and unsnapped her hair clip, fluffing out her hair with her fingers and reaching for the brush. "My hair's never been this long."

"Whatever. It suits you short. I can't do anything with mine."

"That doesn't matter. I can do plenty with it." Rachel stroked the brush through it thoughtfully, watching the waves fall into place. She gazed at Kitty and reached out with her teke, watching her face as her hair began to rearrange itself, looping and curling freely. Kitty whooped at the gentle tingling feeling caressing her scalp.

"That feels so funny."

"I know. Mom used to do that to me, too, back when I was little. She always liked me in pigtails. I wouldn't sit still for her to comb my hair out, so she did this instead." Kitty caught the sad look in Rachel's green eyes, reaching up to hold her hand in her warm grip.

"Jeannie was great. She made me feel pretty special, too." Kitty glanced back into the mirror. "Cripes! That's perfect!" Slim plaits held back the long fall of remaining hair from her narrow face, fastened back with Kitty's favorite mother-of-pearl hair clip. Long bangs framed her narrow face charmingly, drawing attention to her high cheekbones and intelligent warm brown eyes. Kitty's filigreed gold hoop earrings floated in mid-air, waiting for her to take. "Thanks!" She fastened them on and turned her face this way and that, admiring how they shone in the lamplight.

"Pretty," Rachel pronounced. "I want details when you get back," she warned, stepping back to let Kitty stand and grab her jacket and keys.

"I never kiss and tell."

"I'd have some clue if you don't make it home tonight, Pryde! Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"You mean don't do anything that you WOULD." Rachel shooed her out the door.

 

**Downstairs:**

 

Logan lit up his second cigar of the night, chewing it thoughtfully as he enjoyed the cool night air. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He flicked his toes impatiently inside his coffee-brown leather boots and straightened his shirt cuff again, even though it didn't need it.

This sucked. Here he was, downstairs waiting twenty minutes early like he was fresh out of junior high, going on his first 'real' date. If he had ever even gone to junior high.

"Did I ever go to junior high school? Hnh." A light breeze ruffled the back of his hair from his perch on the porch stairs. Probably not. 

It was almost...like when Kitty first came here. Logan laughed when he remembered her looking up, up, up at Peter, all six-and-a-half feet of him the first time she met them, those brown eyes of her totally huge. Kid had her heart on her sleeve. Yeah, this was kinda like that.

Now, he thought, maybe I've got my heart on my sleeve, too. Here I am, with the stomach butterflies and jitters for a frail that I've know fer years. 

So why'm I so damned excited? Logan picked up a twig from the ground and began stripping off the bark, just to have something to do with his hands.

Logan's enhanced senses picked up a whiff of English Leather aftershave, mingling with the more expensive, if cloying, Chanel No. 7 as familiar footsteps made their way outside.

"Going somewhere, Logan?"

"Yup."

"Anyone we know?" Emma prodded.

"Yup."

"You're not in the mood to share any more details, are you?"

"Nope." Scott grunted, amused. Logan grunted back. Emma smiled slightly at the exchange. Honestly, she thought, it's like two dogs in a pissing contest... Logan blew intricate smoke rings from his Cuban. Emma fanned the air, grimacing at the odor.

"We're taking the Bentley. Tell everyone not to wait up."

"Whaddever." His shrug was indifferent. Logan suppressed a smile at the thought of Ororo pressed into his back, clinging to him on the back of the Harley. He offered no goodbye as Emma and Scott sauntered off, arms linked. Emma's grip on Scott was possessive and confident. Logan sneered at her departing back.

"Ain't even worthy t'lick Jeannie's boots, Summers," he growled under his breath.

"The company Scott keeps...and his hobbies during his down time are no concern of ours, my friend. Let's be off." Logan turned, smiling at the deep, sultry feminine voice that floated out from the doorway. His eyes landed on long, narrow pedicured feet shod in black patent leather slingback sandals with gold coins twinkling over the toes. He let his gaze travel up slowly over shapely narrow calves, endless, lean thighs that peeked out from a short black skirt with a diagonal handkerchief hem, and a toned abdomen that peeked out beneath a black mesh crop top worn easily over a black bra. The top skimmed over and emphasized breasts that managed to be full, high, and firm. It was the face above them, though, smiling at him with perfect, straight white teeth, which caught his breath. The wind stirred the thin gold bangles on her slender wrist as Ororo checked her watch. "I'm not late...?" The breeze stirred a lock of her long white hair, pulling it across her lips.

"Not at all. Perfect timing, 'Ro. Yer prerogative if ya wanna keep me waitin,' anyway, you bein' a lady an' all." Logan stood, proffering his arm, smiling up into her eyes. "It was worth every minute."

"Stop it, you naughty man," Ororo chastised, falling into step with him as they strolled to the garage. "You'll make me blush."

"That's what I live for, darlin'," he drawled. Ororo enjoyed a delicious shiver at the hungry look that flashed in his black eyes. 

Yep, the night was lookin' better an' better.

 

From the window of the second story hall, Kurt watched them walk away from the mansion, admiring Ororo's long, lean form garbed in black, nearly making her blend in with the night. She and Logan leaned in toward each other companionably. Like they belonged together. Kurt sighed as Ororo's laughter reached him, carried back on the wind. It was a bawdy, hearty, genuine sound.

All of the sudden another beer sounded good.

Except that Logan likely drank the rest by now. "Dinner wouldn't be bad, either," Kurt considered. He headed down into the kitchen, trying to decide what sounded edible.

Most of the corridors were dark, and surprisingly quiet. Kurt didn't know if that was good or bad. "Calm before the storm," he muttered, yanking open the refrigerator and scanning the top shelf. "Hmmmm." Tuna salad...eek, too ripe, that has to go. Meatloaf. Enh. A desiccated slice of cheese pizza that someone forgot to wrap in foil, and would likely be tougher than rubber if he warmed it in the microwave...Kurt reached for the kitchen trash can, stepping on the foot release to pop it open, and he began cleaning out old leftovers. He marveled at the surprising amount of free space now clear of offending offerings, but sighed in disappointment at the lack of beer. "Truly Logan, you're a man of little pity and great thirst."

"He cleaned us out of beer again, didn't he?" Kurt peered around the edge of the refrigerator door, smiling as he always did at the deep rumble of Peter's voice. It was so blessed good to have him back. However he ended up back here.

"Of course he did. I will confess, though," Kurt admitted, "I did help him a little, earlier."

"He only offered you one before he drank the rest of the pack, tovarisch."

"Exactly."

"Maybe we'll bring some back on the way home." This time Peter turned where he stood in the center of the spacious kitchen, his mouth dropping open as Kitty made her entrance. The faint hint of cologne tickled his nostrils, enflaming his senses as he looked her up and down, drinking it in.

"Katya...you look so..."

"Different?" she suggested. For the briefest of moments, Kitty felt that old uncertainty creep under her skin. She wanted to phase herself down into the floor. 

"Incredible," Peter corrected her, closing the gap between them as he reached out to run his long index finger along a silky lock of her bangs. "I like this. A lot."

Some things never changed; Kitty colored bright as a raspberry, ducking her head as a grin threatened to split her face. "Oh, you!!! Let's just go! Kurt, d'you want us to bring you back anything?"

"Nein. Have a great time. Tell me how it was tomorrow." The corner of Kurt's mouth twisted up wryly at them.

"I don't know when we'll be back," Kitty hedged, staring into Peter's blue eyes as she picked an imaginary piece of fluff from his periwinkle silk shirt.

"You're not on curfew. Not with me, anyway, Katzschen. Enjoy yourselves."

"G'night, Fuzzy Elf."

"Good night, tovarisch." Kurt waved at their retreating backs as the kitchen door clicked shut.  
Downstairs:

 

Rachel cursed and fumed over the twisted array of wires and connections protruding from the console. "Stupid, frigging piece of crap!"

"Oh, my stars, such language from such a pretty girl," Hank purred, his voice deep and rumbling with amusement.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I won't tell," he reassured her. Rachel wiggled and squirmed on her back as she reached for a pair of needle-nosed pliers. Hank quietly watched her work, occasionally review the schematic of the console between glances. So much like her mother, Hank marveled, except perhaps for the potty mouth... He shifted uneasily in his chair, trying to keep his blue eyes from drifting over her young curves as she struggled with the wires she was trying to splice.

Really shouldn't be staring...think of puppies. Think of old women in sagging stockings. Think of your favorite lab rat, Tiny. Cold showers. Global warming. Cow flatulence. Wait...cow flatulence???

"Cow flatulence?" Rachel's coppery brow cocked itself at him as she ceased struggling with the wires for a moment.

"Keep your mind to yourself, young lady."

"Hey, I'm not the one with the wandering eyes, Doc," she grinned. She resumed work with the pliers. "And for the record, I'm flattered."

"Which begs the question: What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Why are you in on a Friday night?"

"I was grounded," Rachel griped. "Scott –"

"You mean Dad," he corrected gently.

"No. I mean Scott." Her face was suddenly cloaked in black shadows as the glowing gold raptor tattoo manifested itself over her eye. Hank swallowed, bristling.

"Don't ruffle those feathers at me, missy. A little respect for your elders. Now, back to the matter at hand, why are you stuck here, languishing in the bowels of the mansion with me?"

"Emma kidnapped him. You'll recall that he was scheduled to help you tonight."

"I've been...distracted." Hank crossed the room and keyed in some commands on his day planner, checking the logs. "That's funny, you're right. I forgot. I logged in a reminder for it myself. Hm."

"Distracted?"

 

"Mmmmm." Rachel's face resumed its normal creamy pallor as she drank in the glazed expression on his face. Giving in to temptation, she skimmed the surface of his thoughts – his mind was such an amazing place to dwell – and pulled a memory of a recent kiss to the surface.

 

"Hank? I'm glad Betsy's back, too."

"Didn't I mention something about snooping a moment ago? That's right, I did!" he crowed, smacking his forehead mockingly.

"Sorry! Hank?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Did she rock your world?"

"Rachel...if I could blush beneath this fur, I would." That was all the answer that she needed. A guffaw escaped her throat as she turned back to her tasks. Hank began keying in scenarios, running them in test mode and checking the monitors. His eyes scanned the Danger Room suite below. "Someone left something behind. What's that red thing down there?"

"I'll get it," Rachel huffed, righting herself and stretching out, loosening a kink in her back. She exited the control room and stepped into the elevator, hitting the sub-basement button. Her fuzzy bedroom slippers made almost no sound on the polished floor as she made her way to the small red article of cloth on the floor. With a thought, she levitated it into her hands. Soft, red cotton, printed with swirls of black and white paisley, and knotted at two corners. A bandanna. Tied pirate-style.

_Kurt's._

Rachel gave into a sudden nagging urge as she stroked the memento in her hands, bringing it up to her nose, inhaling the scent. Tide detergent, mingled with a faint scent of sweat, and another mild aroma she had come to associate with the funny, teasing teammate she had come to trust and admire ever since she flung herself into this timestream. A rush of tingles ran up her arms.

"What is it?" Hank's voice squawked from the intercom.

"A bandanna. I'll take it back upstairs so it doesn't get lost. Hank? D'you need me to help you with anything else?"

"Not at the moment, no. I can run the scenarios and protocols without you, you've been here for over an hour. Did you even eat dinner?"

"No," Rachel admitted. Her stomach rumbled in consensus with Hank's suggestion. "Guess I could go scavenge for something upstairs?"

"Feel free. Enjoy the rest of your evening," he encouraged, waving her off."

"Yeah," she muttered, "before Emma finds me some more fireplaces to sweep." Rachel blew him a kiss and exited the suite. The basement corridors were echoingly empty. "Buffy, season seven, here I come!" A tune invaded her thoughts as she rode the elevator back up to the first floor. She gave in to the urge at first to merely hum the melody under her breath, then decided the only way to get the song out of her head was to belt it out.

 

"Gonna make you, make you, make you notice...

 

Gonna use my arms

Gonna use my legs

Gonna use my style

Gonna use my sidestep

Gonna use my fingers

Gonna use my, my, my ima-gin-a-tion

'cause I'm gonna make you see

There's nobody else here

No one like me

I'm special! so special!

I gotta have some of your at-ten-tion! Give it to me!"

 

Rachel's voice, unbridled and bawdy as voices are when the singer is under the mistaken belief that no one else is home, rose in abandon. She entered the kitchen, performing a decent impression of Elvis' shimmy, brandishing an imaginary microphone.

...she nearly fell over the open refrigerator door as she crossed the threshold. "Oof!"

"Ach!" The condiment bottles jangled as Kurt narrowly avoided being smooshed. "Er...hi?" Curious yellow eyes met hers around the edge of the door. "I would've thought that song was a little before your time?" Rachel drank in his smile, flushing to the roots of her hair.

"Um...heh. Yeah, I guess. One of Mom's old favorites," she explained hastily. "You heard every word, didn't you?"

"Ja. Didn't miss much." Kurt fought to smother the smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. "Are those the latest trend in footwear?" He eyed her Power Puff Girl slippers with googly-eyed stuffed heads that stared back at him.

"Only for the really cool kids. Really. If I'm lyin' then I'm dyin,' bub," she winked, trying to recover herself. Kurt chuckled good-naturedly. The kitchen lights caught the faint gleam of his white fangs. Rachel studied his long, lean back as he continued to move food containers around. "Whatcha doin'?" 

"Cleaning out anything wearing a fur coat or that looks, smells, or moves like one of Hank's science experiments."

"Bleah," she grimaced. "I was gonna eat in tonight, but now I'm not so sure."

"Suggestions?"

"Chinese?"

"Enh."

"Mickie Dee's?"

"Enh."

"Quieres Taco Bell?"

"Yuck." Kurt's tail flicked back and forth as he considered their options.

"Pizza?" she asked hopefully.

"Delivery?"

"Definitely."

"As long as there's meat on it somewhere, that sounds great," he beamed, rising and gathering up the edges of the trash can liner, pulling it out and twisting it shut. "Now we even have somewhere to put the leftovers," he added, "that doesn't resemble a toxic waste dump."

"There may not be anything to put away, I'm famished!" As if on cue, Rachel's stomach growled. Kurt laughed as he headed for the back door with the trash. 

"Poor fraulein. I'll port upstairs and get my wallet."

"No, I suggested it, I'll spring for it."

"Never. I insist."

"Well...let me take out the garbage, then." Kurt felt the trash bag shift in his hand and wrest itself from his fingers. The kitchen door opened itself, allowing the bag to float outside. He peeked around the doorframe, a bemused expression on his face as he watched the metal lid lift itself in the air and clap itself back over the can once the bag was stuffed inside.

"Neat trick."

"Helps with the ickier chores. You're already being chivalrous by offering me dinner."

"I try to be a gentleman."

"You succeed." 

"Er...my wallet." The laughter left his eyes for a moment as he remembered his other errand. BAMF! Rachel gently fanned away the sulfurous smoke left in his wake.

"God, am I that much of an ogre?" Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at her feet. "Whaddya think, did I make a complete idiot of myself with him earlier? Be honest," she asked her slippers. They just smiled benignly back up at her, offering no solutions. She headed perused the refrigerator door, looking for the pizzeria magnet with the delivery number on it. "Aha!" She grabbed the phone and began dialing...

BAMF! "Let's order a large."

"Of course!" Kurt laid his wallet on the kitchen table. 

"What else did you plan on doing tonight?"

"That's the popular question," she brooded. "A movie or two. A little TV. I dunno what I'm in the mood for. You?"

"Already trained. Already taught and graded papers. No plans at the moment. And you already treated me to a free concert." Rachel nearly dropped the phone as she spun on him, brows furrowed over huge eyes. 

"Yessss, helloooo, is this Mario's Pizzeria? I'd like to order a large, no, make that an extra-large pizza for delivery?" Rachel brandished her fist at Kurt, swinging out to sock him. He feigned fear as he backed away, past the reach of the phone cord. She listened with one ear to the phone as Kurt rummaged through the cabinets for two drinking glasses. To her chagrin, he began humming the melody of the Pretenders tune under his breath, in a surprisingly rich baritone. She almost didn't hear the voice on the other end of the line asking what kind of sauce she wanted on it. 

"Marinara?" she asked aloud. Kurt nodded over his shoulder. Rachel complied, ordering sausage, olives, mushrooms, and asked for artichokes on one half when Kurt made a face at the suggestion.

Rachel hung up the phone on a cheerful note as Kurt poured them each a soda. "Thirty minutes." She took the glass from him, and suppressed a small thrill that ran through her when her fingers grazed his. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome."

"Um...d'you feel like watching a movie with me? I mean...while we wait? It'll be a while," she suggested.

"Any movie in mind?"

"Episode Three?"

Kurt's face broke into a wide grin as he pumped his fist in the air victoriously. "Yessssss! Perfect, I've been dying to sit down and watch that one. I never got to see it in the theater."

"None of us have had time, lately," Rachel agreed.

"Time wasn't necessarily the issue. Sometimes," and he sighed as he confessed, "I just get tired of wondering how people will react when I go out in public. A movie theater's dark, but..." Rachel's heart went out to him.

"Sometimes, you just feel like enjoying yourself without having to second guess or think twice," Rachel finished for him. Kurt's gaze was suddenly riveted by the telepathic hologram she projected before them of her dressed in her old Hound suit, her red hair military-short, with vicious-looking tattoos slashed across her youthful face. "I know how that feels. Sometimes I got sick of always hiding my scars." Rachel made her way to the study as the image dissipated, with Kurt following closely behind. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, hating the funny nervous quiver she always seemed to have lately around him. 

_I've known him all my life. Well...in a way. And...I watched him die once. This is Fuzzy Elf, practically your favorite uncle._ Once, anyway.

_Except, things changed. We're close to the same age now_ , Rachel considered.

As if reading her mind, Kurt murmured "You threw us all for a loop when you finally stopped hiding who you were. I still can't believe we never knew who you were from the moment you walked through the door, fraulein."

"I didn't want you to know. And who knows, you might never have found out, if I hadn't overheard you all talking about how my mom had died. I kept wondering why I had never met her here." Kurt nodded solemnly.

"It was difficult back then, Rachel, not picking your brain about...what was to come. But ever since Rogue implanted Destiny's diaries, I've realized the future can be even more dangerous, the more you know of it."

"I wouldn't have been much help anyway, Kurt. After I became a hound, so many of my memories were scrambled. And when I came back here, Illyana answered the door, but she was Kitty's age! She was supposed to be little, Kurt."

"The key phrase is 'supposed to be.' History has a funny way of being rewritten when you've lived here long enough." Kurt reached for the remote as Rachel settled herself on the loveseat. She pulled the folded afghan throw blanket from where it was hanging over the bolster and spread it over her lap. "Cold?" Kurt eyed the blanket quizzically.

"Not so much," she hedged. Truth be told, Rachel was shivering slightly as Kurt plopped himself next to her. Her nose twitched. There it was, that little scent again. It was nice, kind of like wintergreen leaves and fresh baked bread.

Kurt scanned through the menus and hit play. "We can watch the extras later. Cinema-formatted or widescreen?"

"Widescreen! You can only really experience Anakin when he's larger than life!"

"Ahhh, and here I though you rented it for the special effects!" Kurt rolled is eyes to the ceiling and threw up his hands. This time Rachel succeeded in bopping him with a sofa cushion. "Ach!"

"You only accepted my invitation so you could ogle Padme in an evening gown," she accused.

"Oh, milady, how thou doth wound me! It's not the gown that makes the woman," he laughed, eyes dancing. "I love the idea of a woman who needs to be rescued, once in a while." He adjusted the speakers for surround sound. "Damsels in distress seem to hold a strong appeal for me." He looked up, feeling Rachel's eyes on him. Her smile was contemplative and incredibly warm. "What?"

"Well..." Rachel's voice trailed as her gaze faltered. Another flush of tingles pinkened her cheeks. "Is it the damsel in distress that appeals to you, or the rescue itself?"

"Both." Jurt relaxed and leaned back, stretching his legs. His arm grazed Rachel's as they sat shoulder to shoulder. She didn't move away. The dimmer lowered the light in the study to a third of its brightness. "Rachel, was that you?"

"Mm-hm. Feels more like being at the theater this way."

"No. This feels far better than being at the theater." Rachel's eyes flitted back to Kurt's. "I'm glad you decided to stay in."

Rachel fought against the urge to pour out her anger at Emma and Scott, then nixed it. The change to spend quality time with him was precious. She wouldn't, couldn't taint it with complaints about how she got here. "Ditto." They sat in silence, drinking in the opening sequence. Rachel had lost track of time, only remembering what they were waiting for when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, don't get up."

"Money's on the counter, Rachel," Kurt called after her.

"Thanks, 'Elf." She skipped into the kitchen and snagged the twenty-dollar bill, dashing back down the hall to answer the front door. "Coming!"

From the study, Kurt listened to the creak of the front door, and Rachel's playfil complaint that it was chillier than she expected outside. He smiled as he heard her heartily confirm that yes, they would love cheese and peppers with that.

Rachel padded back to the kitchen after locking up in front, collecting paper plates and napkins. Balancing everything in a tidy stack, she returned to the study, announcing "Dinner is served, Herr Wagner."

"Danke, Fraulein Grey," he grinned. She set down the plates and handed him the box. Delectable aromas rose from it as they lifted the lid.

"Hope my eyes aren't bigger than my stomach."

"I doubt that. I heard it growling again when you came back here. Eat! Please!" Kurt laid the first slice neatly on a plate and handed it to her as she settled back under the afghan. "Are you sure you're not cold?"

"Thanks. And I'm fine, I'm just shaking off the chill from opening that door! I'm wearing enough clothes," she nodded down at her outfit, indicating her roomy college sweatshirt and plaid flannel pajama bottoms that matched her eyes. Kurt's eyes flicked over her, trying not to stare.

She was so...beautiful. It went without saying. Yes, there was so much of Jean in her, but there was always that haunted look in her eyes, and a rebellious tilt to her chin that pulled at him. Lately his feelings toward Ororo had complicated things a bit. Attraction was definitely one of those feelings that the Wind-Rider had inspired in him. Admiration and awe, certainly. Passion? Possibly. Except that he sensed it wasn't shared. Kurt also wasn't blind to the almost girlish way Ororo glowed whenever she and Logan exchanged looks.

The pizza was good enough to deserve a lull in their conversation. Two-thirds of it were gone by the time Rachel crumpled her napkin and tossed it into her plate. "Hoo! Full, full, fulllll! Not one more bite or I'll bust." She smothered a burp. Kurt chuckled. "'Scuse me!"

"Surely. At least it was just a pizza burp. I was downwind of Logan's after he made off with the last of the Molson."

"Hunh. Guess I should be flattered, then, that my bodily emissions are less stinky than Logan's. Slightly, anyway." She wrinkled her nose.

"Be VERY flattered." Rachel's blanket looked comfortable. Kurt surprised her as he lifted up the edge and spread it across his lap, leaning companionably against her side.

Rachel's heart hammered in her chest at the press of Kurt's lean body. His hand rested above the blanket, right over the gap where their thighs touched. Rachel snuggled more deeply within the cover.

_If I move my hand too close...will he think I'm being forward?_ Flashing light sabers filled her vision. Wish I'd known he was in the kitchen. He heard me caterwauling my heart out!

She smells good. Just a hint of...something. Kitty's perfume, perhaps? Yes, just the faintest hint. Almost imperceptibly, Rachel's head inclined itself toward Kurt's. The smell of her shampoo wafted toward him. Ahh, that was the other smell. Shampoo, and the natural small of her hair itself. Sunlight. She smelled like sunlight.

_He has nice hands. I wonder if they feel as smooth as they look?_

A warm grip on his hand startled him from the screen. "Vas?" Rachel stared intently at his fingers as she turned his hand palm up. He shivered as she traced the lifeline of his palm, her touch feather-light. Just that touch sent a surge of heat straight to his groin.

"It is that smooth," she murmured out loud. "Oh!" She released his hand, fighting the feelings of idiocy and embarrassment that washed over her. "Sorry...just...I was just satisfying my curiosity about something. Sorry," she stammered again. "Won't be the first time you've caught me making an ass out of myself tonight."

"Hush." Kurt's eyes were warm despite his gruff tone. His touch was gentle but firm as he pulled her hand back into his. "I don't recall a first time that I saw any such thing," he soothed, lacing his fingers through hers. Rachel's breath caught in her throat. It felt so natural, being near him like this. "I won't fault your curiosity, either, or discourage it." Rachel skimmed her thumb over the wide edge of his thumbnail, noting the paler blue of the cuticles. "There's nothing wrong with being curious. And I enjoyed the little Elvis thing you did, too. Kitty would have been proud." Rachel dissolved into giggles.

"PLEASE don't tell her! It's bad enough you caught me singing off-key!"

"I caught you enjoying yourself, which you so richly deserve." Her knuckles were so small. "And it's been increasingly rare."

"Too much going on, that's all."

"Are you sorry you came back to us? To your father?" There. He's said it, questioning the wisdom of the words as they left his mouth. Rachel cleared her throat and looked away. Kurt silently kicked himself. Then the scent of her hair reached him again, this time as it brushed his cheek. Kurt released her hand and draped his arm around his shoulders. She sagged into the embrace, relieved and grateful that she no longer had to wonder if it was okay.

"It's Emma," she whispered. "It's so hard not to hate her."

"She doesn't make liking her very easy for any of us, liebchen. Don't fill your heart with hatred, or you won't have room to feel anything else."

"She stole my father from my mother. She destroyed my family, Kurt." Kurt's warm breath stirred the hairs at her temple. He stroked her arm and spoke into her hair.

"No, she hasn't. You, Alex, and Nathan are still family."

"She said I shouldn't have born."

"But you were. And you're here. That's called a miracle, Rachel, a blessed, wonderful miracle that Emma didn't steal away." Rachel's fingers drifted up and caressed his chest through the soft weave of his black jersey. Her hand stilled a moment as she felt his heartbeat quicken. "I'm so thankful that she didn't." Rachel searched his face. The laser blasts and explosions pumping from the speakers faded into the background as she confessed, "You rescued me tonight, Kurt."

"From what?" Wiry long arms corded with lean muscles shifted as she continued to explore his chest. The pert tip of her nose nuzzled his neck. Strong fingers raked through her hair, stimulating her.

"From knocking myself out, wondering how this would feel." Kurt's cheek was silky beneath her palm. Kurt's yellow eyes were drowsy with a mixture of rapture and desire. His lips parted, tasting her trembling thumb as is grazed them. Rachel made a strangled sound of yearning as he closed the remaining gap between them, lowering his mouth to hers.

There was a roaring in Kurt's ears as the final wall burst and came tumbling down. The kiss became a reckless, hungry fusion of need and heat. Rachel squirmed to get closer, struggling to sample all of his flavors and exotic textures all at once, from his sinewy shoulders beneath her palms, to the crisp, blue-black curls sifting through her greedy fingers. His tongue twirled artfully, sinuously, gracefully around hers in a dance that shook her to the core. Kurt broke the kiss first, clutching her, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Rachel?" His features were etched with passion and the aching loss of having to pull away. Her fingers flew up to cover his mouth.

"Shhh. Please. Don't tell me you didn't mean it," she pleaded with him. "I couldn't stand it."

"Ohhh, I meant it." His voice rumbled into her hand as he explored it with his lips again. Rachel nearly came out of her skin as his tongue darted into her palm, tasting it. Slowly, painstakingly, he traced the webbing between her fingers, then drew her index finger into his mouth, engulfing it.

"Don't stop."

"Wouldn't think of it, liebchen." His tongue rasped against her finger. Heat pooled in her feminine center.

"Kiss me, Kurt. Please."

"Give me a moment..." He busied himself with each finger, giving them his full attention and a thorough suckling before moving onto the pulse in her wrist.

"Please," she breathed. Kurt only paused as her outstretched fingers found his earlobe while he nibbled her sensitive white flesh. He groaned raggedly as she stroked it, tracing a path up the crest to the pointed tip.

"Okay," he nodded, cupping her face in his palms, now hot, and plundering her mouth. He swallowed her sigh of contentment as her arms stole around his neck. The movie was forgotten. Rachel ignored the clunk of the remote as it hit the floor. One of her Power Puff Girl slippers fell off as she scrambled up onto Kurt's lap, straddling his thighs. She cradled the crown of his head in her hands as he leaned back, letting her take the lead. Nibbling kisses crept over his face, starting at his hairline, making their way down his temples and dancing across his high, sculpted cheekbones. "I love seeing you like this. I love looking at you," she confessed. A kiss landed on the bridge of his narrow nose and slid down to tease the tip. 

"A real sight for sore eyes, eh?" His eyes were thoughtful right before he leaned up and nipped her chin. To Rachel's delight, his hands busied themselves with rubbing along the length of her back and neck. He grasped her hips and adjusted himself beneath her. Rachel gasped as she felt his hardness pushing up against her.

"You are. Always." A brief memory flashed in Rachel's mind of waking up outside Brian's estate, aching and barely alive from engulfing the Fury in a singularity containing the mass and force of a black hole. Looming out of the dark sea of her subconscious was Kurt, smiling tenderly down upon her and looking like a dream come true. "Kurt?" she asked, turning his head slightly to the side to better draw his earlobe into her mouth.

"Ja, fraulein?" he hissed out through his teeth.

"Is this...is being here with me interfering with...anything else?" Her breath steamed it's way into his ear canal before her tongue followed it. She was rewarded with the burgeoning hardness increasing beneath her and rubbing her where she had grown damp and slick. "Or anyone else?" She thought of Kurt's look of shock and disappointment that day in the Danger Room as he watched Ororo walk out with Logan. His hands caught her face and stilled it for a moment, forcing her to look at him. His brows were furrowed as he sighed.

"Nein," he replied. She grasped his wrists as she savored the feel of his hands again, rubbing her cheek against him appreciatively while his next words sank in. "I'm a one-woman man. This isn't interfering with anything else, since there is no one else involved that would be hurt by it. And I think you could use another kiss." And he followed his own suggestion, evoking a moan from Rachel that thrummed through him, striking a chord.

Well, that answered her unspoken question about Ororo...

"Good deduction." Using her teke, Rachel shut off the DVD player and TV, then turned off the lights in the study. Pale moonlight and the glow of the outdoor sensor lamps shone in the through the window. "And you don't know how glad I am to hear that." She proceeded to show him.

"Good heavens, yes, the ears!" His hips arched up from the loveseat cushions, swiveling and grinding themselves against her.

"Kurt...oh, Kurt. Please." She licked her lips. "Upstairs." She clung tightly to him as he complied, 'porting them upstairs.

Rachel was slightly disoriented, stumbling back a bit before Kurt caught her, pulling her to him in the upstairs hallway.

"I just cleaned my room."

"I don't have a roommate."

Easy decision. "You're right. Your room." BAMF! 

On the other side of the closed door, Rachel glanced around at the spare but pleasant furnishings. Antique movie posters of Errol Flynn graced the wall, along with photos taken of the team. Rachel smiled fondly as she picked up a silver frame. "Ororo took that one," he explained over her shoulder, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. Butterflies darted through her stomach as he nibbled her neck. The photo looked a few years old. Kitty was in her old yellow and black student uniform, mask and all, hoisting herself through one of the trapeze course hoops in the Danger Room. She grinned widely at Kurt, who hung upside down by his tail from an adjacent bar, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Cute."

"Kitty was cute back then."

"I meant you this time, silly," she tsked, replacing the frame on the desk as his mouth on her throat grew more insistent. She felt his fanged canines graze her pulse. Her back arched, instinctively pressing her glutes into him.

"You're making it hard for me to be a gentleman."

"That's the point. I was past being ladylike when I took your hand. Hope you didn't think...I was...too bold, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh." 

"Not a bit." He tugged up the hem of her sweatshirt, reaching beneath it to stroke her heated flesh. "You're not chilly anymore."

"No."

"Good. And you won't be, either. I won't let you." His thick index finger teased her navel, drawing circles around it before his palm flattened against her flat abdomen. "You feel so soft." Her hand snaked around to the back of his head, clutching his hair as he feasted on her.

"I know." His lips grazed her cheekbone before discovering the shell of her ear. Rachel yelped as he gently closed his teeth around it. "You may have to mop me up off the floor if you do that again, though."

"Consider me warned, though it's a task I would undertake with a smile on my face."

"I want you, Kurt."

"And I want you too, liebchen, so much it hurts." She casually kicked off her other slipper as she leaned back, finding his mouth again. Kurt no longer hesitated. He deftly untied the drawstring to her flannel bottoms and nudged them down. Rachel moaned as a whisper of cool air hit her bare skin, letting them drop to the floor. Kurt turned her in his arms, cupping her bottom possessively as they moved together against each other. Rachel exulted in the feel of Kurt's thick sweats rasping against her legs. Her hands snuck under his shirt, skimming his washboard stomach and firm pecs. Her index fingernail scratched lightly against his nipple making it pebble with arousal. As if echoing her thoughts, Kurt grasped her sweatshirt and pushed it up, just as she worked his over his torso. Divesting each other of the shirts, they stepped out of the steadily growing pile of clothes. Kurt backed Rachel into the cool pine desk and stepped between her thighs as he lifted her onto it. Her hands possessed him, kneaded him, treasuring every inch they touched.

"Lord help me, you feel so right, liebchen. Don't let go!"

"Never. Nevernevernevernever." His fingers fumbled with the clasp of her red satin underwire bra, finally jerking the shoulder straps down impatiently. He peeled the cups down and dipped his mouth to her bounty, scarcely believing that she could just keep looking more beautiful and desirable the more he uncovered. Her thighs gripped him snugly. "Oh, Kurt!"

"Mmmmm," he mumbled around her rosy peak. "Taste so good. Feels so soft." Sensations swirled in her belly as she held him there. His mouth lapped and tickled her flesh, moving to the other, equally lovely breast to give it his consideration and stamp of approval. He peered up into her eyes, glazed with lust for him.

"Have to have you," she whispered.

"You have me." He lifted her against him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. Rachel collapsed backward, taking him with her as he laid his full length against her, covering her. Rachel fought with the stubborn bra hooks one-handed, finally wresting it free and tossing the scrap of red satin across the room in triumph. She savored the luscious weight of Kurt's body as he pinned her, murmuring how beautiful she was. Arms and legs tangled together as a pair of thick sweatpants eventually made its way onto the pile, followed shortly by a scanty pair of red bikini panties and navy blue boxers. 

"Rescue me."

"Your wish is my command, milady."

Kurt's lips trailed a lazy path down her narrow ribs, nipping them before he kissed the smooth, flat expanse of her stomach. She shivered and encouraged him, crying out as he spread her thighs, opening her. She came apart as his tongue skillfully caressed her pearl. Just when it couldn't get any better, a blunt, sturdy finger probed her slick depths, nearly filling her. Kurt nearly fell over the edge himself at the taste of her, marveling at her passionate, honest response. She was making that sound for him, crying his name. Thoughts of Ororo evaporated as he made love to the willing, caring woman before him as though he couldn't get enough.

"Say you want me," he whispered.

"Take me."

"Say it, liebchen."

"I want you. Take me, Kurt. I'm yours if you want me. I need you...to want me."

"I want you like I've never wanted anyone in my life." Rachel clung to him as though she were drowning as he entered her, stretching her, completing her. They moved together as though they were always meant to be that way. Kurt thought he had died as he sheathed himself in her silky wet folds. Pleasure built, consuming them as Rachel wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer. He thrust himself into her to the hilt, drawing back only to bury himself again. Rachel rode out the tension building within her as her womb began to pulse and contract. "Come with me, baby! Don't...don't let me come alone. Oh, please, Kurt!"

She was milking him, squeezing him. It was exquisite. It was too much, until...

Just as she found her own release, Rachel felt the tightening ripple of Kurt's climax pulsing within her. His body bucked and shuddered against her as he cried out, head thrown back. Rachel held him, sharing the moment that was as precious as it was overwhelming. He collapsed against her, spent. Rachel felt him slip from her depths as he settled himself comfortably within her arms, a place he never wanted to leave. Rachel's lips wandered through his hair.

"Wow. That was..."

"I know. Wow." Rachel tucked the top of his head under her chin thoughtfully.

"You realize, of course, that this creates a problem. We were friends..."

"Great friends," he agreed, kissing her collarbone. She shivered, squirming beneath him.

"And we're teammates."

"True."

"We live under the same roof. We spend a lot of time together as it is...?" Her voice trailed again as he raised up onto his elbows to study her face. She was silenced by the tender look on his face as he framed hers in his hands.

"That makes it very convenient for me, then, since I plan on spending even more time with you. You can't just give me a night of mind-blowing lovemaking and then cut me off. That would be unspeakably cruel, liebchen."

"Cruel, huh?"

"Horribly." She smiled against his lips as he kissed her. "There's also the matter of how backwards this was. Normally, when I meet someone who has me in this much awe, and who leaves me unable to believe my luck, much like I can't believe it now, well, normally I'd go the route of asking for a coffee date at Starbuck's..."

"..or a movie, I imagine. Wouldn't have to use your image inducer or see a night show with me, 'Elf."

"No, I suppose not," he smiled, twirling a lock of her red hair. "You already know me, inside and out, from what you've seen of me in your lifetime."

"You were there while I was growing up."

"But now I'm here with the woman who came to us a scared girl full of mysteries, who had seen horrors I can't even fathom, and who's grown stronger, who shines like a newborn star. It was a gradual process, one I'm thankful, even honored that I could witness. You've become the woman you're supposed to be, and you belong right here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kurt."

"Good. Because there's so much I want to know about you, and I have to catch up on everything from your most embarrassing moment to your favorite ice cream flavor."

"You already saw my most embarrassing moment, or one of them, when I was serenading you in the hall." She skimmed the corner of his mouth with her fingertip.

"Hm. One answer down."

"You have a nice way of getting a girl to open up," she murmured, reaching for him. She felt him come back to life as she searched for him, stroking his length. He hissed out his appreciation before a look of delighted surprise filled his face. She rolled him over, spreading herself over him as she reciprocated his thorough study of her body's secrets. "And it's peanut butter cup."

"Ahhhh. Now that we've dispensed with the preliminaries...don't...stop."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's awful. It's old. I might eventually tweak the narrative. I just wanted to harvest it, in the meantime, and add it to my collection here.


End file.
